


Team 80-84

by SilverDawn17



Category: PLAYERUNKNOWN'S BATTLEGROUNDS - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDawn17/pseuds/SilverDawn17
Summary: Everyone watches Battlegrounds. Everyone. I remember watching last year's event with my girlfriend, and the intensity as the gas drew Murderer Number One and Serial Killer Number Two closer together. I had been rooting for Murderer Number One, I think. I had been drinking and my girl was distracting me. Either way, I was happy to see the scum of the earth fight it out to the death and eliminate themselves.And now, I was one of them. Stupid me.





	1. Kid

Kid

"Here's your number, find your table. Here's your number, find your table. Here's your number, find your table." 

As the line progressed, the robotic voice got louder and louder. The man in front of me hobbled along with a limp, and I walked right on his heels, eager to get this over with. The breath I didn't realize I was holding suddenly exhaled with a sigh. Perhaps I should take my time. I might not have much left. 

I stepped up to the counter, grabbing my ticket at the prompt of the voice. 83. I grabbed the tray of "food" in front of me and scanned the tables in the cafeteria. Each had a large white sign above them like a restaurant. Spying "80-84" at the other side, I slowly made my way over. This was it. A room full of "Prison Overpopulation Control Initiative". Those military legals sure love their acronyms. 

There were already three people at the table. My stomach did a flip as I approached them. My team. From this distance, I could make out two men, one black, one white, and a woman with medium skin tones. The white man had the palest skin I've ever seen, only obscured by some obnoxious snake tattoos crawling up his forearms. As I got closer, I could even see the blue veins popping out from his skin. So odd. 

The woman looked older, maybe in her thirties or forties, and had her dark hair tied into a long braid. I had to squint at the other man, because at first glance he looked exactly like last year's champion in UFC fighting. He even had the same scar on his cheek. No way was it him. No way I'd have the balls to ask. 

"Hello team," I said as I sat down, and all three didn't even look up. I swallowed and glanced between the three of them. I wasn't sure what I expected. 

"So... is there anything I should know?" 

Still no acknowledgement of my presence. None of them looked up to me. Tattoo was cradling his coffee between those pale hands, Braid was mixing her potatoes and gravy, and Champ was methodically separating his food into squares. 

"Any of you... talk?" 

Champ finally found my eyes. 

"What is there to know? You'll be dead in the first few minutes anyway." 

I couldn't make out his accent, but at least it relaxed my fears that he really wasn’t last year's champion. Was it really true people from all over the world were here? The worst of the worst? How many deaths were on account of the 100 people in the room? How many were on account of just the three at the table next to me... I picked up my fork with shaking fingers. Consuming anything on my plate was the last thing on my mind. 

Tattoo rolled his eyes and spoke with an exaggerated American accent. "We jump out of an airplane and find a gun as quick as possible. Kill others before they kill you. Avoid the circle of deadly gas slowly advancing in. Try and be the last team standing. Simple." 

I knew that. Duh. Did he think I was an idiot? Everyone watches Battlegrounds. Everyone. I remember watching last year's event with my girlfriend, and the intensity as the gas drew Murderer Number One and Serial Killer Number Two closer together. I had been rooting for Murderer Number One, I think. I had been drinking and my girl was distracting me. Either way, I was happy to see the scum of the earth fight it out to the death and eliminate themselves. 

And now, I was one of them. Stupid me. 

"Kid. You ask a question and then don't pay attention. What is your problem?" Braid squinted her dark eyes at me. 

I gulped. Shit. Did not want to make my team hate me right off the bat. Teammates killing each other, from what I knew, is not unheard of. "I-I'm sorry, I just - " 

Tattoo snorted laughter before wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. "Apologizing, what the fuck? Were you born yesterday? What are you even here for?" 

There was no way I was telling them. I wasn't that stupid. "I haven't killed anyone, okay? I’m not some badass. I've never even held a gun. So since we're teammates and all, I was hoping to get some tips. So we actually have a chance out there of making top 20." 

"Yeah, you're going to die," Champ said and stood up. "Very statistically likely." He walked off to dispose of his trash, muttering to himself. How was he already finished eating? 

"Great pep talk," I whispered and turned my attention back to my plate. Warm ham, potatoes, green beans, and a cookie, each in their own styrofoam section. I remember eating bigger portions in middle school. 

"You better eat up," Braid said. "This might as well be your last meal. They don't leave any food in those houses unless you wanna dig through the trash."

"Okay mom." I stuck the soggy piece of meat into my mouth and nearly gagged. 

Tattoo kept chuckling under his breath. "You sound like a badass to me." He couldn't help but keep laughing and had to use his hands to cover his mouth and cough a few times. 

"How old are you, kid?" Braid asked. 

I finished chewing the ham and swallowed, much to the dismay of my stomach. "25." 

"Hell if you are, don't look a day over 16 with that smooth face," Tattoo raised his eyebrow. "When I saw you come over I was like, wow, they're sending kids in now..." 

I said nothing. No reason to argue with him. I needed to get these three to like me, and not nominate me into the first meat shield. We ate in peace for several minutes until Champ came back and set his elbows on the table, folding his hands to crack his knuckles. I didn't think I could stomach any more food, but this silence was killing me. 

"So what's the plan? Where do you guys think is the best place to land?" 

I could feel the tension in the air. They were annoyed. I was already the least popular one here. The naive one. Fine. But looking around, the cafeteria noise was deafening - all the other teams were talking. Strategizing. Working together. Trying to get any advantage they could. And here I was with team edgy introverts. 

"Look," I set my knife down. "I"m an idiot, a liability, a weak ass, I get it. Tattoo... Braid... Champ, I get it, you're all strong and badass and I'm not. But we're teammates, okay? Let's at least try to get along. Don't you have anything to live for, or are all you murderer types got a death wish?" 

"Heh, what do you have to live for, kid?" Braid asked. "Got some special chica at home to go back to, eh?" 

Any shred of appetite I had left instantly vanished. Bile rushed to my throat, and I had to swallow it, but the acid stung my gums and the back of my tongue. I quickly stood up and headed for the garbage pile, tossing my half-full styrofoam tray into the trash. Bathrooms. My stomach churned and I coughed, panicking. I was going to throw up. Here, in front of everyone who would be trying to kill me tomorrow. 

Where... where was the sign with the little man? Hell, I'd take a little woman if I needed to. Just not here. I looked at a guard and he simply pointed, somehow reading my mind. I rushed in the direction of his gloved finger, relieved to see the little man picture. I kneeled in the first stall I came to and emptied my guts into the bowl. The ham looked even worse after being in my stomach. 

Still panting, I tried to swallow a lungful of air to calm myself. My whole torso was shaking. Why was I even here? Why did I have to subject myself to this sadistic entertainment industry? I didn't deserve this. No. 

"Guilty."

That courtroom. The judge's face. My parents' face. Disbelief. How could 12 people look at that evidence and declare that my fault. How. 

I heaved again, this time yellowish-white bile sticking to my lips. I coughed and ejected it into the toilet, my whole upper body shaking. I sat back down onto the cold pink tiles, trying to learn how to breathe normally again. The smell of urine hit me all of a sudden, but the acid taste in my mouth nearly overpowered the scent. I stood up with shaking legs, making my way to the sink. I stared at the stained white bowl, unable to look myself in the eyes. I didn't trust what the mirror would tell me. 

The cold water washed over my hands just like the truth. Yeah, I was going to die. And millions of people were going to watch it and cheer. 

After splashing my face and rinsing out my mouth I stared at the ground making my way back to my teammates table. They didn't say another word, and neither did I. 

\-----

 

They woke us up while it was still dark, putting us in line according to our numbers. I found myself sandwiched between Tattoo and Champ, with Braid directly in front of us. We were all filed through narrow corridors into one long line leading outside. I could see pale dawn lights from the small door in front of us. We were headed to the plane, right? 

I hated flying. Always have. I was getting jitters just from the thought of leaving the ground. A robot came by and stuffed a bag into my hands, along with a small communication device. I stared at the small comm, before attaching it to my left wrist. Bright white letters "100 ALIVE", and a small map of the island glared back at me. All three of my teammates put the bag on their back, so I followed suit. My parachute. For when I would jump out of a moving airplane. At 20,000 feet. Or something. 

Just then I heard a scuffle a few rows behind me. 

"What did you just say?" 

"You heard me -" 

The sound of pounding flesh and two bodies crashing to the ground. I whipped my head around to look. 

"No fighting, no fighting," the robots shouted and headed towards the fight. 

"What are you gonna do, kill us?" One of the men shouted after throwing a punch. 

The robot nearest him extended his arm with a gun to swiftly put a bullet into his skull. The man dropped to the ground with a thud, sticky blood covering the floor. The man he had head-locked raised his arms in surrender, but the robot whizzed a bullet into his skull as well. 

I faced forward as quickly as I'd turned around, letting out a breath. I glanced down at my comm. "98 ALIVE." Well shit. 

"Continue walking forward. Board the plane silently and quickly. We'll be in the air shortly." 

I trained my eyes downward as the robots passed by again. Champ's feet shuffled forward, and all I did was follow him. We finally made our way to the door, and I took just a moment to enjoy the orange and pink colors in the sky. Likely my last ever sunrise. 

The plane was crowded and smelled like 3-day-long BO. 50 seats in two rows facing each other greeted me as I stepped inside. I had to squeeze my shoulders in to fit into the bucket seats. Sandwiched once again between Tattoo and Champ. After a few moments of holding my breath, the door to the plane shut, and the aircraft slowly began to crawl forward. I took a moment to look to my left and right, and immediately noticed the two empty seats, but what was more telling was the diversity of the group. I wasn't sure how long I would last in this cramped, stale air. The chick across from me suddenly threw up and I looked towards the ceiling. How long would this flight be? One more minute would be too long. 

As we ascended, I gripped the seat cushion. The feeling of weightlessness washed over my legs and I did my very best to not look at the soiled ground beneath me less I do the same. After a few more minutes the plane leveled off. There was some announcement that went over the PA system, but I couldn't hear anything thanks to the plane's roar. 

My ears winced in pain from the plane's engine. It was deafening. I wanted to cup my hands over my ears, but there was no room from the two bodies pushing into my left and right. 

The cabin was starting to get restless. People kept glancing towards the hatch, waiting for it to open up. Tattoo elbowed me and pointed to his comm. I looked down at mine and noticed a white marker moving across the ocean. A GPS. I zoomed out and saw the plane moving closer to the ocean. I looked over at Braid, she was moving her mouth but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I looked back down at the map, noticing colorful markers appearing closing in around a city. I set down my own marker nearby. I guess that's where we were going... 

My heartbeat raced as I saw my GPS marker fly across the map, getting closer to the markers we've chosen. Once we were over the edge of the island, the hatch to the plane creaked open, letting in blustery winds. If I hadn't lost my sense of hearing by now, I just did. 

A few teams got up and headed for the edge of the plane before jumping off. My stomach lurched again. There was no way I was about to do this. No way. Maybe I could just stay in the plane forever, or at least until it landed on its own accord... 

My team suddenly stood up, but my legs were jelly. No way... not yet... 

Braid suddenly tugged on my arm and mouthed "Let's go!"

I stood up and almost fell back into my seat from the air pressure. My team was way ahead of me in the plane, though, and I knew I'd need to go, or I was dead for sure. I looked around the plane one last time, seeing that cute redheaded girl... hoping I wouldn't have to kill her... or kill anyone...

As I staggered through the cabin, all I could see out the window was blue sky, not a single cloud to be seen. Ahead of me, Champ and Braid jumped out of the plane, face down. Not yet, no... Tattoo stood behind me and pushed me forward, yelling something into my ear. Finally I stood with my toes merely centimeters away from the edge with nothing but air and a several thousand foot drop in front of me. 

This was it. 

I jumped. 

It felt like I moved backwards, falling down and away from the plane. Wind whipped at my face, and I had to close my eyes from the strain. Dizzy. Which way was up? Which way? I had to turn around, face the ground, get my chute off in time... 

Open my eyes. Sky, nothing but bright blue, getting smaller and smaller. I had to turn around, fall face first. Somehow I leaned forward with my upper body until was facing parallel to the ground, and then kept leaning. The ground. Holy shit it was getting bigger. Fast, too fast. Spread out my limbs. The island was huge. Gigantic. So many buildings, so many hills, so much... 

Somehow I let out a breath and a sense of tranquility fell over me. Here I was, above everything, and above me nothing but endless sky. I could see far across the ocean until it disappeared into the horizon in a gray mist. 

This would be my last moment of peace. After this, it was over. 

My team. I tried to check my comm, but my eyes were watering too much. Where were they going? I could see their GPS markers but I was nowhere near them. Shit. 

Land, get a gun. Find a gun. Find nothing else. Just a gun. Ammo. Put ammo in gun. Shoot anyone you see. 

This was it. 

The ground got larger and larger, and I could no longer see over the large hill to my right. I bent my knees as I was only a few meters from landing on the ground. I checked my comm again. I was maybe 200 or so meters from the colored markers from my teammates. Not too bad. I glanced to my left and right, and my heart sank when I saw another chute. No... No... 

I leaned forward, my chest facing the ground, wanting to fall as quickly as possible. 

Find gun. Find ammo. Put ammo in gun...

I bent my knees as my feet kissed the ground. I had to stabilize myself from the impact, surprised at how light it was. I shed the parachute, which landed in a billow behind me, and took off to the nearest house. I could see the bogey running up the hill to the house as well. I'd get there first. Find gun, find ammo...

 

I ripped the door open, nearly pulling it off it's hinges. Gun.. gun.. nothing in this main room. I opened up every door I could find, but only useless junk. I had to defend myself. So many people died in the first few minutes… a glance at my comm said “95 ALIVE”....

Staircase. I bolted upwards. Please, find gun... there! On the table! Shotgun. I grabbed the weapon fiercely, hugging it to my chest as I fumbled with the 12 gauge ammo. How to load this? I turned the shotgun every which way, trying to figure out how to load it. How had this not been taught to me before? Why was this so difficult? Who designed this? 

There was a hole at the top of the barrel, surely this was it... I jammed the cartridge and pulled the lever thing around the barrel, like I'd seen in the movies. The click! The familiar click. I was holding a loaded weapon. For the first time in my life. 

Should I go? Wait for him to come to me? My heart was beating so fast, I couldn't think. Don't make any noise. No, he knew I was in here. I left the door open. It was a matter of time. I glanced down at my comms. My team was so far away!

"Kid, what are you doing over there? You okay?" I heard Tattoo's voice. 

I was scared to talk. My mouth was dry. We hadn't been given any water this morning and I just realized how thirsty I was. Come to think of it, I'd seen an energy drink downstairs... did I dare venture down to retrieve it? Wouldn't I be safer up here?

"Kid?" Braid's voice this time. "We're looking for a car, we're coming to get you. Stay put." 

I wanted to speak, tell them what was going on. I had to move. I had a loaded weapon. If I waited he might find one too. Maybe even an assault rifle or an SMG... then I was dead for sure. 

I had to move. 

"Kid, what you doing? Stay put in the house!" 

I guess they could see my GPS signal moving. 

"I have a gun, I need to chase down this guy," I said into the comm as I stepped down the stairs. I grabbed the energy drink by the kitchen counter, quickly opening it and guzzling down the sugary syrup. The sweetness made me grimace. I hadn't had sugar in months. 

"Goddamnit there's gotta be a car here," Champ growled. 

Now, where was he? I crouched and glanced through every window around me, searching for any sight of him. I couldn't hear any footsteps. What if he'd ran away? What if his team was coming to pick him up? 

I still had to go. I left out the front door, crouching as I approached the house next to me. My senses were on high alert. He was in here, surely. I would have seen him running away from this vantage point. He was hiding in here, with weapon or not. I had to flush him out. 

"Kid, wait for backup. Don't go in there by yourself," Braid cautioned. 

I ignored them. Last night they didn't want to talk, and now everyone wants to tell me what to do? Screw that. I had a weapon, they couldn't even find a car. I'd do this myself. 

Kicking the door open, I glanced around both corners, looking for him. Where - 

A shot! My shoulder suddenly burned in pain, and I cried out. My shotgun cut into my chest as I hugged it close, wanting to grab at my wound. Blood seeped between my fingers. This was it. 

Where was I being shot from? I couldn't see anything, anything but blood. Another shot made my ears ring but I felt no other pain. I hurled myself back outside and around the corner, panting and panicking from my open wound. I had to fight. I was a sitting duck out here, and any moment he'd come around the corner and end my life. 

This was it. 

"Kid, what the fuck? We told you to stay put!" Tattoo yelled at me. 

His voice would give away my position. Not that it mattered. I tried to hoist up the shotgun but my shoulder refused to move. I lay prone on the ground, using my good arm to support myself, facing towards the open door. He'd have to show himself. He'd have to. 

A roar of a car rang out in the distance. My team, please God my team... 

More shots! A rapid fire! I rolled away from the house, but there was nowhere to go. Pain, stings, all over my body... pain, blood... breathing... so much... 

"To the world.. to Cora...." I wheezed into my comm, flinching at the blood all over it, "I'm sorry..." 

This was it - 

\-------


	2. Tattoo

Tattoo

“Kid? Kid?” 

No. I stood there like an idiot, frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to the comm on my wrist. 

92 alive. Just a second ago, 93. 

I zoomed out on the map, trying to find Kid's location, but my stomach fell to the ground when I saw nothing but a skull instead of an arrow. 

He was dead. 

I dropped my arm and tried to make myself walk forward, only to clunk my head into a wall. It didn't hurt as much as it should have. 

My arm raised itself again, and I looked down at the killfeed on my comm. 

“Rex Jones killed Damien Candela with UMP9.” 

Damien. He was young. Sounded so panicked... and then those words at the end... 

My stomach turned over into knots and I cleared my throat. I knew he was going to die. I knew I was going to die. But Battlegrounds had barely started.... he'd landed so far from us, in the middle of another team, and that was it. His life, his journey, over. 

“Well... that sucks,” I heard my female teammate say. Braid. Isn't that was Kid had called her? 

I didn't move. Tried to swallow away the dry lump in my throat, but it still felt parched. My eyes dropped from my wrist to the ground, and the objects slowly came into focus. A pump-action shotgun and some 12 gauge lay strew about on the floor. 

“I just found a car,” My male teammate said. Champ. Why that name... I guess I'd never know.

I picked the shotgun up and loaded the shells into the barrel. On my way upstairs, I scavenged a backpack and a few random gun attachments. After scooping them up into my backpack, I jogged down the steps and brought my voice com to my lips. 

“I'm ready to kick some ass. Let's get these motherfuckers that killed Damien.” 

The woman snorted into the mic, but my male teammate said nothing. I headed in his direction, ready to take the car he mentioned by himself if needed. 

“No you're not.”

I heard his voice, but not through the comm. I looked up and he was right in front of me, standing in the doorway with his imposing frame. 

“You want to go rush those guys with just a shotty? Not gonna happen.”

“We have to go after them,” I said. No explanation needed. 

“Yes, but not with that. Let's loot a few more houses - “

“Fuck that. They're gonna be on the move. We have to go now.”

“No.” Champ then turned around and walked into the bathroom of the house. I rolled my eyes and yanked open the door. I was going to go no matter what. 

“Tattoo.” 

His deep voice made me stop and turn around. He stood in the doorway holding an AKM, and then walked over to shove it in my hands. 

“Now you're ready to kick some ass.” 

I had to smile. The gun was surprisingly heavy, but felt good in my hands. I was ready to fuck shit up. 

“You even know how to handle that thing?” Braid asked as she entered into our house. 

“You look like you can barely lift what you're holding,” I shot back, eyeing the black gun in her arms. 

“Please. I have more years of military training than you are old. What attachments did we find? I need a scope.”

I knelt on the floor and emptied my backpack, my teammates doing the same. They both spent some time looking them over and attaching the various components, talking about which was better. I listened in, dumbfounded and forcibly mute. Had I just won the lottery with two teammates that knew the ins-and-outs of guns? Whatever. Give me something to shoot at. 

“Here's a red dot sight for your AK, Tattoo,” Champ said, handing me the small piece. 

I added it to the barrel of my gun, satisfied. “Alright, we've wasted too much time, let's get those guys.” 

We piled into the blue car and sped out of the compound, Braid at the wheel. We drove through what seemed like miles of nothing but wheat fields. Was that a tractor? I glanced down at the map, estimating we were only about 300 meters from Damien's body, and the other team. The car kept accelerating faster as we passed by these endless wheat fields. How many people had died in this field, over the years and years of using this island? Did they have farmers come by to care for the crops, or did the wheat somehow grow from all the blood spilled here? 

“Right here, this one,” Champ said, and Braid turned the car into a screeching halt outside a small compound. We piled out of the car and took opposite sides of the corner of the two-story house.

“Okay, here's what we do. I'll take front door, Braid, you're behind me, watch the roof. Tattoo, flank around the back door. And lay into anyone you see. They're probably have everyone upstairs, maybe one downstairs. Make sure you check the bathroom. Let's go.” 

I let out a breath that had been restricting my chest, and jogged around to the backdoor. I could hear footsteps inside, creaking on old floorboards. I gripped my AK close to my body, my right finger caressing the trigger. 

“Tattoo in position?” 

“Yep,” I whispered and let out a breath. 

“Let's move.”

I turned the door handle and the door creaked open to the left. I barreled inside, not wasting time. Kitchen clear, closet clear – a guy in the corner!

I laid into my trigger, the gun bouncing in my hands as the bullets ejected out of the barrel. The noise blew my ears, and all I could focus on was the body in front of me crumpling to the ground, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls. I let go of the trigger and steadied my shaking hands. At that moment Champ came in the front door, his eyes looking up the stairs. 

“One down,” I made my mouth say, but I couldn't hear until the last word. 

“Flash bang going upstairs,” Braid yelled from outside. 

“Upstairs, go, go, go,” Champ motioned to me as he bolted up. 

I followed, my eyes laser-focused. More gunfire, shots defeaning. Blood spraying, covering the walls, cries of pain – Champ suddenly staggered in front of me. 

“Left, left, left!” 

I leaned over his crouched frame and looked left, my trigger ready. Empty and silent hallway. Two bodies on the floor next to Champ, covered in blood and still. I exhaled, my hands shaking, the scope swaying. 

“You okay Champ?” I whispered. 

“Arm shot. Just get the bastard.” In my peripheral I could see him gripping his bicep. 

A sudden boom of a gunshot made me leap in the air, and then a thud as the body hit the floor down the hall. I skimmed around Champ's form and checked the room to the left. I had to look away from the sight. A man, lying down, eyes wide open, and one bullet through his forehead, bright red blood gushing down his cheek. 

“He's down,” I managed to say as I looked outside. Braid nodded to me from below as she lowered her gun and headed inside. 

“Champ let's get that wound cleaned,” Braid said as she entered. “Tattoo, get what you can off their bodies. Ammo, meds, check what guns they have and let us know.” 

I barely heard her, my hands still shaking. I set down my AK and kept looking outside, not able to look at the man next to me. I just killed a man. Or maybe it was a woman, I hadn't stopped to check. They were gone, dead. I looked at my hands, and then quickly wiped the sweat off on my pants. 

“Looks like we're well inside the circle,” Champ said, an obvious wince in his voice. “After we scavenge off these guys let's head further west.” 

“What do they have, Tat?” Braid asked me. 

I kneeled down next to the man, realizing I had to turn his body over to get to his backpack. His body flopped over just like a ragdoll. I unzipped his backpack and reached inside to see some ammo cartridges, some bottles of pills and a first aid kit. I looked at his other weapons but couldn't understand what they were. 

“Tat?” 

“He's still in shock I think.” 

I cleared my throat and left the body behind, looking at my teammates. “You guys can check the weapons, I'm good with the AK.” 

“They have painkillers?” 

“Yep,” I reached into my backpack pouch and tossed them to Braid. She opened the bottle and shook a few pills out for Champ. 

“Guess I'll check these bodies then,” I muttered and walked next to them. The blood staining the walls and trickling across the floor was impossible to ignore, but I tried to wipe it from my sight. 

“This is good. We won our first fight. Only lost one. We're in the circle,” Braid mentioned. She looked down at her map on the com, and then turned towards me. 

“Ooh, is that... what I think it is? A Kar98K rifle?” Her dark eyes lit up. 

I was about to say I had no idea, but kept my mouth shut. She stepped closer and then smirked as she pried the wooden looking gun out of one of the dead man's hands. I thought it looked like a shotgun, but had no idea. 

“Oh, baby...” She looked down the barrel, towards the wall, and her smile grew. She turned towards me again. “If you find any scopes, let's put one of those bad boys on this.” 

“We shouldn't stay here too long,” Champ spoke again. “This was a good fight and we're ahead, but we made a ton of noise. I think with all this equipment we get back in the car, find a place to bunker down in the middle of the circle, somewhere with good sight lines.” 

I continued looting the backpacks of the dead enemies, slowly getting more comfortable looking at corpses in such a short time. I managed to pick out the meds and equipment from their backpacks. Champ and Braid looked over their weapons and had some more discussions that went over my head, but they seemed thrilled with the pick ups. 

“Tat, you good with that AK and shotty?” Braid asked. “There's an UMP here, it's got a grip and extended mag. I think I saw a compensator somewhere too.” 

I glanced at the gun she was pointing to on the floor and shook my head. I had no idea what that gun was. “I'm good with what I have. Although...” 

A thought suddenly crossed my mind, and I stood up. “I'll go check the other house to make sure they didn't leave anything behind.”

I exited the house, wind suddenly howling in my ears, and the sun's light blinding. A small grove of trees grew to my left, but my eyes were focused on the ground next to the garage, the corner of the building. A corpse lay there, blood staining the nearby dirt and grass. My feet carried me next to the body, and I knelt down, staring at his face, the only part of his body not covered in blood. 

I'd only met him yesterday. He was so eager, so naive, wanting us to get along and talk. I'd been dead inside yesterday, not wanting to talk about nothing. Definitely not my feelings and thoughts. But he'd... just been trying to make the best of a shitty situation. He'd gone to attack a whole team with just a shotgun. He'd panickedly jumped out of the plane and landed only somewhat near us. He'd given us all nicknames that we all automatically started using. 

What had he been put away for, I wonder? Not a single tat on him, not even a sign of hardship on his face. He wasn't even wearing the standard prison garb – based on the bright yellow jacket and jeans, he could have walked here from any college in the US. 

Damien Candela. If only this cursed island had wifi, I could look up his case on the news. Some rich kid being sent here, of all places, had to be on the news. Maybe he was some kid who got a bad judge and got unlucky. There were at least one or two each 'Grounds. 

Well, whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than whatever my two living teammates had done. The way they talked about guns, they'd killed more than a handful of people each. 

A sigh escaped my lips. I wanted to honor his body, I did. But I didn't even know if I should. Maybe he was guilty, maybe he “deserved” to have his body destroyed by bullets, maybe this was all a huge mistake. 

I'd never know. The world would never know. They'd just eat up what the news told them. 

The cameras were on me now, there's no way they weren't. I raised both of my hands, and extended only my middle fingers to the sky. Fuck them all. 

“Ready to go, Tat?” 

I nodded, and turned around to look at my team leaning against our vehicle. I took one more look at Kid's body and then steeled my expression as I entered the car. No matter what happened now, I put out my message. That's all I'd ever wanted to do in life. I'd been locked up for protesting this very thing, and now here I was fighting with everyone I wanted to protect. No justice system in the world was perfect enough for this to exist. No crime was bad enough for this level of exploitation. 

 

As we sped across the wheat fields, all I could do was shake my head. 65 people alive, make that 64. 36 people had died. Did they deserve it? It wasn't for me to say... but also not for any other human being to make a judgment. 

And now here I was, my life likely about to end... so much I would never do, so much potential wasted, so much tragedy. I'd considered going into this as a pacifist and just refusing to fight, but so many had done that in the past... but that hadn't changed anything. If I was going to die, I was going to die with a gun in my hand. Maybe it was just what the POCI wanted. Maybe. But I'd already let them all know just how I felt about this. And maybe, just maybe, we'd win this. And I'd still have a chance to spread my message. 

Braid's voice broke my train of thought. “Let's go Quarry, I think we can get some great sightlines from the top there.”

“Sounds good,” Champ agreed. 

I just nodded, still staring at the disappearing wheat fields, as we headed into a sparse forest. For now, I was alive, and with two people that knew what they were doing. For now, there was still a chance. For now.


End file.
